Page 23 of Sawyer’s Mistake

“Why can’t we do the same thing again? Convince it to wrap itself around something else instead? A branch, or—”

Zander shook his head, still kneeling next to Sawyer. “That’s not how live bindings work, Saoirse. They detect life, and will only ever be tempted by another live host.”

She tried to interrupt again, but Storme spoke up.

“It doesn’t matter what we offer at this point, anyway. Once the live binding is excited, as it is now, it will never release its prey.”

He didn’t finish the sentence, but Saoirse could read between the lines. They were saying Sawyer was going to lose his arm. Her look must have betrayed her panic, because Storme’s voice became quieter, as if he was trying to soothe her.

“Sit down, Saoirse. We’re going to do everything we can to make sure that doesn’t happen.” Saoirse allowed Eva to push her down on the log again.

Zander nodded to Prado, who was on his knees, his back to them. It looked like he was assembling something mechanical. When he turned around, she saw it was a small flamethrower.

Saoirse cried out. She tried to stand, but this time Eva was expecting it and held her down.

“Saoirse, please. They know what they’re doing. They care about Sawyer. They’re doing the best they can. Let them do it.”

Storme had positioned himself along Sawyer’s right side.

Saoirse shuddered as Prado approached. She noticed the Spaniard’s hands were shaking lightly around the flamethrower. That struck her as odd. He was the team’s sniper. His hands never shook.

She saw Zander put on a pair of heavy gloves and carefully lift Sawyer’s arm until it was extended perpendicular to his body then spread something heavy over the hand and around the elbow. Saoirse stifled a cry.

“It’s just a protective cover,” Zander said gently, and Saoirse knew he was speaking for her benefit. He tightened his grip against Sawyer’s hand, making sure his own hand an arm were also under the heavy cover. Finally, Zander nodded. “Go for it, J.”

Prado walked up to them and placed the nozzle of the flamethrower ten inches away from Sawyer’s arm, then pressed trigger, firing a burst of flame directly at Sawyer’s naked arm. The live binding began vibrating, and the forest filled with the smell of cooking meat. Prado yelled, his face contorted in pain as he swept the nozzle from left to right, its stream of fire following the live binding, which curled up against the flames.

Sawyer stirred, and Saoirse wondered if it was the pain or the smell of his charred flesh that finally brought him back to consciousness.

He roared, and tried to move away from the flamethrower, but Zander’s grip held his arm in the flames. On his other side, Storme’s grip tightened over his right shoulder and arm, making sure he couldn’t move.

Zander and Storme spoke quietly to Sawyer. She couldn’t hear what they were saying over the whooshing sound of the flamethrower, but after a few moments Sawyer stopped fighting them.

Sawyer turned his head sideways and their gazes connected. Saoirse held his gaze, and it seemed to her then as if time stopped. His green eyes were clouded in pain, but his jaw was clenched tight, and he wasn’t making any noise. She felt tears rolling down her cheeks.

Finally, Zander shouted. “Yes! It’s breaking down!” He used his own gloved hands to grab the live bindings, which were now brittle, darkened strands, and ripped them away. Storme rushed in, using his heavy combat boots to pulverize them.

Saoirse got up, and this time Eva didn’t try to stop her. She knelt beside Zander, her hand going reflexively to smooth Sawyer’s hair away from his face.

“Jake,” she whispered.

His eyes were closed tight, as if he were trying to regain control of himself before opening them.

Saoirse looked up to see Zander digging for something deep in his backpack. She hoped it was something for the pain. She forced herself to look at Sawyer’s raw, blistered arm.

Beside them Prado stood, rooted in place, the flamethrower held loosely in front of his body. His hands were shaking, and his golden skin was a pale, sallow color. His throat moved up and down convulsively. Saoirse was about to ask him to sit down, when Alix moved right up to him, her steps silent on the forest floor.

“Can I help?” she asked quietly. She was almost as tall as Prado. Her slim hand came up to touch his hand gently for a moment before prying the flamethrower from him. Prado let go, looking surprised but grateful.

“How is, he, Zander?” Storme asked, his face pinched with worry.

“He’s in pain,” Saoirse interrupted. “Can’t you give him something?”

Sawyer opened his eyes. He stared straight at her for a moment then turned to look at Zander. “Don’t … don’t knock me out, man,” he begged.

Zander looked up at Storme, who shook his head.

“Sorry, buddy, you don’t get a say this time,” Zander replied. “Just relax and let us do the work.” He brought out a small syringe and emptied the vial against Sawyer’s arm. An instant later, Sawyer’s forehead smoothed as his body went limp.